


Lifeline || Izaya Centric One-Shot

by Silits



Series: Lifeline [1]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Based on Song, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Implied Relationships, Implied blood, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Music, Izaya One-Shot Centric, Izaya centric, Lifeline by Kenny Holland, One Shot, One-Sided Attraction, Other, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, lifeline - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 18:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8024614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silits/pseuds/Silits
Summary: "Yes the pain was always there, and the loneliness was always eating away at him, and even though he was a coward, Orihara knew to never let go of his lifeline.Even if his lifeline killed him."





	Lifeline || Izaya Centric One-Shot

Anyone who knew him knew that he had called himself the god of humans, the one who watched the crowd and toyed with the emotions of others to his choice, to keep himself entertained. Anyone who knew him knew that he kept a Shogi board filled with Shogi and Go pieces, even some Chess pieces, pretending that they all represented someone that he was currently toying with, the King representing himself. Anyone who knew him knew that he sometimes toyed with fire and a deck of unique cards, pretending that one card stood for one person in his main game, in which sometimes he would throw them into a fire, or burning them individually as the game processed. Anyone who knew him believed that he was a heartless bastard who didn't have emotions, which let him do as many wrongdoings without feeling guilty or regretting something he had caused someone to go through, because remorse had never showed on his face, nor did he even seem to have that word in his grand vocabulary. Anyone who knew him thought that he didn't give a damn about his younger sisters or parents, believing that he only reached out for them when they were a pawn in a game that he was playing. Anyone who knew him believed that he only spent his time trolling behind a computer screen, pretending to be an innocent girl while in chats as a different persona than he really was in the real world. Anyone who _really_ knew h-..... was there such a person? The man himself didn't even seem to know who he really was inside. The truth was hidden by so many layers, it was hard to count them. The truth had never met daylight, nor did it ever seem that it ever will, because the masks were constantly replaced, meaning that the face with cracks under it would never see itself in the mirror, nor could it ever be amended with super glue or stitches. It was the emotions inside that caused the cracks, and everything that was said to him, always added a small crack or tear or chipped off a corner. It wasn't his fault, because no one cared enough to help.

Orihara Izaya the man who is said to be a complete lunatic, but earns great money for it, was just like many other people, because he could breath, he had to eat and drink to survive, and he slept right? So he was like everyone else? No, not even with that in consideration, many thought of him as a monster, because that was all they had ever really seen of him, because that is all that he allows to show.  

The truth is, Izaya doesn't show even himself the worst of him. Izaya hid his emotions, because he pretends that he is okay, right? He pretends to be happy and laughs and jokes about his own private life in his own apartment late at night, while everyone else is asleep to see him make fun for being the coward that he is. Sometimes in the bathroom when the light is dark and he can't see much of his own reflection in the mirror, he cracks a smile, and sees all the damage in his facade, in which he sees the real person under his permanent mask. The smile under the porcelain would reveal the ends of cracks or chipped off lips. Sometimes he sits on his wheely-chair that is placed by his desk, which is in front of a window wall that overlooks a city, a place where he can see the time fly without him participating. Sometimes he sits there at night, looking at the pedestrians below, just wishing that someone would take him anywhere, anywhere away from the dark apartment that he had trapped himself in, but even then he knows that his fate laid within the walls of his flat. Somethings in life when he lets himself relax even for a little bit, it always amazes him all the things in life that he takes for granted, and something always surprises him just how great it was even before he realized it. Izaya was just trapped in his own head, being protected from the world by the walls that trapped him in his own living quarters, where he also ruined lives, just to make him feel better about his own shitty life. Even surrounded by wealth and beautiful work and expensive furniture, he still felt that something was missing, because money couldn't buy him his happiness, and he hated that he knew what he was missing in his life.

The chases in Ikebukuro always took his mind off things, the yelling of his name, heavy footfalls on the concrete before them, and the noise behind him signifying that something else was being ripped out of the ground. The feeling was exhilarating, it made his heart beat, his blood pump, and most of all, it made him forget that his heart wasn't whole. When he runs, knowing that he was the center of attention in someone else's live, made him forget just how fake being awake felt to him, just how stale it tasted in his mouth, and the fact that his nightmares at night felt more real then the blade against skin, to try and make everything bring back its color, instead of loosing it. If only the feeling lasted for long, because it never did, it was always taken away from him too soon, and before he knew it, he was once again alone in a random back street in Ikebukuro, while his breathing came in heavy, and the adrenaline hot in his veins. The taste was always the first one to go, before the adrenaline, and before it felt like he was once again suffocating in a world that wanted him dead. It always started at him at night, as he tried to close his eyes, daring to break him piece by piece. He just wanted to feel like he was alive, even if it was so wrong. It only felt right.

Izaya always knew that he wasn't a steady person, despite his claims that he was a mighty god. Time flew by, leaving him the same, time and time again, with not even a shade difference in his black-and-white world that surrounded him on a daily basis. On days like those, it felt like his fingers were slipping off his lifeline, even if his lifeline wasn't there with him, because his lifeline never was, and would never want to be. And again, he could only picture all the false eyes staring him down as he hides under the covers, to try and protect himself from the own darkness within his own confinement space, because he didn't know how to deal with the voices in his head whenever he faced it dead on. It seemed to want to take over him, all his insecurities that he locked away always resurfaced, and it fed the voices that whispered nonsense in his ears all night long before he falls asleep, to only see the worst behind eyelids.

Sometimes, the world feels like it was resting on his shoulders because it always seemed to bring him down, slows him down, and adds another crack to the face under the mask. When everyone seems to be looking at him in an unfriendly way, when the world tries to burden him, that is when he reminds himself that his mental state was slowly withering alongside him, as it also was barely even holding onto the lifeline that seemed too far to reach on some days. Sometimes it makes him think about the years before he had committed to the life of a man who collected information of others for others, before he ever fought with a gang, before he ever even laid his eyes on a yakuza executor. Sometimes, at night, to distract himself from the stares, he pretends that he is still in that time, that he is that middle schooler sleeping in a futon during the hot summer, fan making maximum noise. Sometimes he forces himself to replicate the things that he once knew into the the things that he knows now. When he sits at the window, looking down at everyone else, hoping to be taken out of his prison, is when he pretends that things were back when he was younger, because it doesn't make him feel younger, because it makes him feel better, even if just a little.

Even with everything on his mind, reminding him of what a bad person he is, and that the face behind the mask was already loosing pieces, he knew that he had to change the game before it changed him.

Izaya knew that he was slowly slipping each passing day, that the burn in his fingers was that he was slowly letting go of the lifeline, but every single time, he would tighten his hold, because it was his lifeline. He didn't plan on going anywhere yet, because he still had so many things that he had to do before he let go of his hold on the thin transparent line that he was hanging onto, one that led into an abyss that would kill him.

It's pretty funny, the thing that he called his lifeline. It was something that he knew that in reality, it would never save him, because it was against him. Everytime he watched the clothed back walk away, as they talked to the others that they were surrounded with, just seeing all the people that loved them was amazing, it was always something that he didn't have, and something that he had wished that he could just take a hold of even for a little. His lifeline never spared him a look, even when his eyes bore into the other, because the other simply didn't care. Yet, Izaya used it as a lifeline, only hoping that one day, they would look over and notice him in pain, and give him the very much needed help that no one had ever provided him with. It always hurt, it hurt his heart, because he knew that the fist squeezing his heart at those times, was the denied love that he felt for the lifeline that didn't care for him. So it hurt, everyday living for something that wanted him dead, because it didn't love him back. Waking up every morning with that thought in his head was enough to make another shade from his world disappear. Even the chases couldn't take his mind off the pain in his chest that only intensified every day, which was slowly making him feel lightheaded, and unwanted. In truth, his lifeline was the one that was killing him.

The raven was blessed with work, because if he sat idly for a second, the hurt in his heart would take over and the rest of the day wouldn't be the same. He had trapped himself in his own fate, as his grip was slowly slipping, as he was sure that one of his fingers had just lost purchase on the thin web of salvation. The retreating back always played in his mind, which would make his hands sweaty, and one of those days, his grip would just loosen, and the world would never have to worry about their lives being screwed with again. 

Yes the pain was always there, and the loneliness was always eating away at him, and even though he was a coward, Orihara knew to _never_ let go of his lifeline.

Even if his lifeline killed him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is based of the song Lifeline by Kenny Holland. I remember first listening to it in an Izaya edit on vine, and when I looked into the lyrics on Google, the pain behind the lyrics really stuck with me. The lyrics described Izaya perfectly, and ever since, my fingers have been itching to write.... whatever this is. You should go listen to the song now. 
> 
> When bae doesn't reciprocate ur love  ಥ_ಥ
> 
> See a grammar mistake? Notify me!


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